Undeniable
by I Murder Asparagus 4 Fun
Summary: To the public, Ryan Wolfe is a psychopathic serial killer. But he's nowhere to be found, and although even he has no idea where he is, it's up to the five people who know the truth to find him before he forgets who he is.
1. Out of Chances

"I got a match off a fingerprint from that glass you sent me."

Valera held out a brown paper file tentatively.

"That was quick." Horatio took the file.

"Yes." Valera looked at the floor. "That's because it's-"

"-Ryan's."

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"Mr Wolfe."

"H." The letter came out forced and croaky. Wolfe fidgeted in his chair, his gaze flitting around the room and every few seconds lingering a moment on Horatio's face. Each time a little spasm of dread would spark in his eyes.

"We have a problem, don't we, Mr Wolfe?"

Wolfe gave a jerky little nod. "H, I don't… I don't know what to say."

"You've said that to me once before, haven't you, Mr Wolfe? An explanation might be a good start."

Wolfe stared at him, round-eyed, his face a mask of uncharacteristic bewilderment. "I just don't know, H," he said.

Stetler threw the print match down on the table before Wolfe, who stared at the single square of colour proclaiming his guilt. "I think it's quite simple, Wolfe. Your fingerprint is a match to one found at a crime scene. Our investigations have confirmed that you were unconnected to the case- so what did you do? Forget to wear gloves?"

Wolfe didn't look up. "I always wear gloves."

Stetler shook his head. "That's not good enough. We're done here." Stetler leaned over Wolfe and scooped up the fingerprint report. Pushing open Horatio's office door, he paused. "With your record, Wolfe, I doubt you'll last long."

Wolfe and Horatio were left in silence.

"Mr Wolfe, I gave you another chance when I reinstated you."

"H, I wore gloves, I swear. I followed protocol."

"Well, Mr Wolfe, clearly you didn't."

There was a pause. Then Wolfe spoke, hesitant and stifled, as if he hardly dared to allow himself to say it. "Will I lose my job?"

"Mr Wolfe, you contaminated evidence. This is outside my control."

"I see." Wolfe stood up. He nodded slowly at Horatio, and left.OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo"Frank. What's this about?"

The sergeant threw Horatio a thoughtful look. "Wolfe. I spoke to my old lieutenant."

Horatio took his sunglasses off pensively. "Yes?"

"He was also Wolfe's old lieutenant. They want him back in uniform."

There was a pause.

Frank spoke again. "Think he'll take it?"

"That, Frank," said Horatio. "Is up to him."

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"Why did you think I should speak to him?"

"He'll listen to you, Calleigh."

Calleigh's face broke into a radiant smile. Horatio was happy to see it back.

"He looks up to you," she said.

"Calleigh… I don't want him to throw away his career. He was a good cop and you'll be able to persuade him to take the patrol job."

The smile faded. "He was a good CSI, Horatio."

"One of the best. Only I can't risk one of my CSIs contaminating evidence.""It was a mistake, Horatio. We've all made them. I've made them and believe you me so have you."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Give him another chance."

"He's had his share of chances."

"So give him another.""You and me both know that's not going to happen."

There was a silence. Horatio watched Calleigh reach a conclusion, and then she looked at him. Serious. Accusing. Disappointed.

"I'll talk to him," she said. The glass door of Horatio's office swung shut behind her.

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"Hello?"

"Ryan?"

There was a long silence, and then, "Calleigh."

"You recognised my voice?"

Another long pause, and then Ryan spoke again, brusquely. "Yeah. Yeah, that's right. Calleigh, listen. I can't really talk right now."

"Ryan I- I can understand if you're annoyed but I really need to talk to you. How about I drop by later-"

"-Don't come round, Calleigh."

"Why?"

"Just don't, Calleigh. Please. Okay?"

"Ryan, I just want to talk."

Again, it was a long time before Ryan answered. "Calleigh, forget it. Just leave me alone. Don't come by the house. Alright?"

"Ryan…"

The stony silence at the other end spoke for itself. Calleigh frowned at the phone.

"You alright, Calleigh?"

Calleigh looked up at Eric.

"I think so," she said.

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"You have something to tell me, Mr Stetler?"

Rick Stetler glared at Horatio. "I've heard that your CSI is trying to get himself a cushy job in uniform."

Horatio looked at Stetler. He smelled of pistachio nuts and cheap aftershave. "That …may be true."

Stetler grinned at his shoes.

"Well I assure you he's not going to get the job."


	2. A Whole New Light

Calleigh was crawling on the floor following a blood trail when Eric loomed up in her field of vision.

"Hey. I thought you were working the Dobson case?"

"Closed. And I thought you could use a hand."

Calleigh smiled. "Thanks." She waved a hand across a shiny glass table to a patch of blood on the beige carpet.

For a minute they photographed and crawled in silence, and then Eric paused, midway through processing the blood patch. "So. Think there'll be a replacement? Now that Ryan's gone?"

Calleigh didn't answer. She had seen a glint behind a sofa and now held up a wine glass, broken off at the stalk, and covered in sticky and congealing blood. "I think I found our murder weapon."

Eric nodded, holding out an evidence bag. "I'll get it back to the lab." He sealed and initialled it carefully.

"So who was our victim?" He looked at the notably bodiless carpet. "Alexx was already here. Estimated time of death four hours to four and a half hours ago."

"So between two thirty and three?"

Calleigh nodded. "His name is Robert Benoit. He works for Human Resources. Worked."

"…Until he was brutally stabbed with a wine glass. Is that _our _human resources?"

"He mostly worked with cops transferring inter-department."

Eric, who was pacing slowly around the table, stopped. "Look."

"You've found something?"

"Pistachio shells."

"Think we'll be able to get prints and DNA?"

Eric looked at the little mound of shells. "Probably. This many shells… our killer must _love _pistachio nuts."

"And we," said Calleigh, smiling, "Love him for loving them, if it helps us catch him."

Calleigh scanned the room again. It couldn't have been any less inspiring. The furniture was drab but not repulsive. The walls were Newman and Cooper. Expensive; Calleigh recognised the pattern from the catalogue. But they were a mildew catsick colour, and the eye automatically slid off them. The most exciting thing was the glass dining table. Calleigh focused on that. One end had clearly doubled up as his office: a Sony Vaio laptop was surrounded by filofaxes and paper piles.

"We can rule out robbery," she said.

Eric grunted his agreement. "With a wineglass I think we can rule out anything premeditated. And it might give us DNA and prints if the killer drank from it first."

Calleigh picked up one the filofaxes. "Looks like a planner. Got a list of all his…"

Eric looked at her. "Calleigh?"

She pushed the filofax across the table at him, open. "His last meeting today. Two thirty. Look at the name."

Eric looked. "R. Wolfe."

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"Ah, Mr Stetler. I see you lost no time in getting here."

Stetler gave a wry smile. "This is a departmental issue, Horatio." Only he said it 'dee-part-mental'. He sounded pleased. "You let a killer out on the streets."

"Mr Stetler," said Horatio. "There is no proof that Mr Wolfe was at all involved in Robert Benoit's murder."

"Have you brought him in for questioning?"

"Mr Stetler, may I remind you that this is my investigation?"

"It won't be for much longer if this continues."

Above Stetler's smug shoulder, Eric gesticulated at Horatio, who wasn't sorry to leave Stetler standing staring after him.

"H, do you have a moment?"

Horatio looked at Eric, retreating confidentially into the fingerprint lab. Eric would trust him with anything. "I got a match from the fingerprint on the murder weapon."

"I see."

"It was Wolfe."

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"Mr Wolfe! MDPD! Mr Wolfe, open the door! We have a warrant!"

The house remained unsympathetically silent.

"Mr Wolfe!"

Eric and Calleigh exchanged a glance. "Do you think he did it?" said Eric.

Calleigh smiled, remembering what she'd once told Ryan. "Personally or professionally?"

"Should I ask you again when we're on break?"

"Mr Wolfe!"

There was a shout from round the back. "French door's open!"

Horatio nodded at Frank. "We'll go in."

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"I don't think he took it too well. This place is a mess." Eric was looking at the empty Chinese takeaway and pizza boxes strewn across the living room. There were beer bottle stains on the coffee tables. A few withered plants and one resilient cactus. The TV was still playing some sports channel. But there was no sign of Ryan Wolfe.

"It's like there's a whole new Wolfe we didn't know about," said Eric.

"People do strange things when they're upset," said Calleigh.

"What, like murder?"

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"You have a suspect on the run, Caine."

"Stetler, if you have something important to say, say it. Yes, Miss Boa Vista?"

Stetler raised his eyebrows smugly, but sidled away without another comment.

Natalia waited until Stetler was out of earshot before she spoke.

"I was going over the photos of Ryan's house."

"Yes?"

"It's not something that would ever stand up in court, but Ryan had OCD. He wouldn't leave his own living room looking like that."

Horatio was already dialling a number. "Eric. Check all the takeaway boxes and beer bottles we collected at Mr Wolfe's house for prints and DNA."

The phone chirruped a couple of bleeps. Horatio spoke into it again. "Lieutenant Caine. Yes, Calleigh? Yes. Ah. Thank you." He hung up.

"Miss Boa Vista, I want you to go over all the DNA evidence for this case, alright?"

"What's happened?"

"Calleigh found blood at the house. It's Ryan's."

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"I've put a BOLO out on Ryan's car."

Eric nodded. "Any hits yet?"

Calleigh shook her head. They waited in silence, both looking at the computer screen rather than at each other.

"That blood…" said Eric.

"Medium velocity spatter. It wasn't much… could've been from an altercation."

"Do you think he ran?"

Calleigh looked at him. "Do you?"

"Yesterday I would've said no. But now…"

"I won't give up on Ryan that easily."

"I thought you always followed the evidence."

"I'm not blind to my intuition. Ryan was a criminalist. One of the basic ways of tracking down a killer are fingerprints. Ryan knows that. It's too… messy."

"Perhaps he was in a hurry," said Eric.

"Robert Benoit's body was lying there three hours before his cleaner found it. He had ample time. And why kill Benoit to begin with?"

"Perhaps Benoit told him he had no chance of getting his job back?"

"It's not as if killing him would solve that."

"So why did he run?" Calleigh said nothing. "See, Calleigh, there are all these questions with only one answer. I don't know when you're going to accept that Ryan's a killer."

Calleigh shook her head, half to herself, half at Eric. "I'll be in ballistics."

"Calleigh, wait."

Calleigh, one hand on the print lab door, looked at Eric, who was looking behind him at the other door. Natalia gave them a weak smile.

"I was going over the evidence on this case," she said breathlessly. "You'll never believe what I found."

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"The print's an old one."

Horatio took the file Natalia was waving at him.

"Natalia was going over Ryan's prints from the murder weapon. They're in the wrong place for him to have held it while stabbing Robert Benoit… more in a position for him to have actually been drinking from it." Eric handed over another file. "So Natalia brought it to me, and I went over it in more detail. The print's fading away."

Horatio nodded. "They're just amino acids."

"Yes. So I looked at the glass from the crime scene yesterday. The one that got Ryan fired? It's an old print too, H."

"And I was just at Ryan's apartment," said Calleigh. "Both the murder weapon and the glass from yesterday are a match to sets I found in his kitchen."

"What does this mean?" said Natalia.

"That we need to look at everything in a whole new light," said Horatio.


	3. A Secret Close to Home

"Are we treating the glasses from both crime scenes as planted evidence?"

Horatio nodded.

"Alright," said Calleigh. "So let's look at the first crime scene."

"Ryan was first responding CSI," said Eric. "A bar brawl turned into a shooting."

"And whoever planted the glass must've known that he would be the one to process it," said Calleigh.  
"So they knew that I was in court and wouldn't be at the scene until later," said Horatio.

"It was an open and shut case…" said Calleigh. She scanned the pages of the report. "Killer's prints were on the murder weapon, patrol caught him making a run for it four blocks away." His mugshot glared at them from the pages of the file: fat and be-tattooed, Gavin Heckler had been in and out of prison since he had robbed his first Burger King aged eleven.

"Somehow I don't think he set Wolfe up," said Eric.

"No," said Horatio. "But the question is; who did?"

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"What are we not seeing in this case?" said Eric.

Natalia shook her head. "Motive? Who'd want to set Ryan up?"

Eric snorted. "Make a list."

She tilted her head. "So who knows where he lives?"

"Apart from friends and relatives… anywhere he's ever worked."

Natalia bit her lip. "So that's basically anyone at MDPD who could find out… that media station… the firing range…" she cleared her throat, "Um, Erica Sykes."

"Still… I don't understand why he ran."

"That's because he didn't," said Horatio from behind them. "Eric, find Mr Wolfe."

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Calleigh shook her head. "I can't believe I spoke to him. I spoke to him and I didn't realise… I was _annoyed_ at what he said. And all that time he didn't want me to come by the house-"

"Calleigh, listen to me," said Horatio. "First of all, I want you to know that none of this is your fault. Secondly we have to make sure that none of this gets out. If Benoit's killer realises Ryan is no longer a scapegoat…"

"They'll kill him."

Horatio nodded.

"I think it may just be too late. The press is already all over this case."

"Perhaps… we could turn this to our advantage."

"How?"

"Horatio!" Natalia's voice called across the hallway. "Horatio! Valera's got a match from the pistachio nuts."

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"Well, Rick? Care to explain what your epithelials were doing at a murder scene?"

Stetler threw Horatio a shifty glance. "I don't know. Must've …rubbed off by accident."

"Ah. I see. So you didn't leave them there when you killed Robert Benoit?"

"What? No. No. I haven't killed anybody."

"So what did you do, Rick?"

Stetler stared silently at Horatio.

"Listen to me, Stetler. Ryan Wolfe is out there somewhere in your mess, and every minute you dawdle his chance of survival dwindles."

Stetler said nothing.

"If he dies; you'll shiver at the prospect of a paperclip after I'm done with you."

Stetler bit his lip. "Alright. I went to see Benoit. I …wanted to bribe him not to give Wolfe a job."

"And he wouldn't be bribed?"

Stetler stared at the table. Shook his head.

"Is that when you killed him?"

"No! No! I didn't kill him."

"Didn't you? So did you just wait while somebody else did it and set Ryan Wolfe up for the murder?"

"Now look, I didn't even know there was a murder. I planted the glass with Wolfe's prints at the bar murder. I knew you were in court and Wolfe would process the scene."

"Where did you get the glass?"

"He lent a couple to Yelina a few years ago. I've kept it in my locker ever since."

"What about the glass used to murder Benoit?"

"I've told you all I know." Horatio shook his head at him. "Wait. Was it a wine glass… long stalk?"

"Yes."

Stetler closed his eyes in horror. "I got that from the Departmental Dinner a few months ago… I knew you would be reviewing all Wolfe's cases and I thought if I could just add it to an evidence box I'd cast enough doubt over him to stop him getting any more chances in law enforcement. I…"

"Yes?"

"I took it when I went to see Benoit. Proof that I could further discredit Wolfe. I must've… left it behind." Stetler ran a hand over his face. "And it got someone killed."

"Sure did," said Horatio. He paused by the door. "One question. Why did you do it?"

"Wolfe was… is always so annoying. And you like him so much… but he wasn't even a good cop."

"You're wrong," said Horatio. "He was a good cop. He still is a good cop."

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"Frank!" called Horatio. "We need a press conference."


	4. All Over the News

Ryan Wolfe tried not to move. Tried not to breathe. It hurt too much. He just lay and lived, squashed in the corner between floor and wall.

Not that he knew where the floor or the wall were. At first, he had focused on what he could see. The grainy concrete slabs stretching on before him for ever, only interrupted but the Wall. Layer on layer of rust. Ryan was vaguely aware of his face pressed against something sticky. He found himself breathing in the irony smell. Wondering if it was blood. Wondering if it was his blood.

But then his eyelids had glued themselves shut. Now and again one would twitch rebelliously open, and he would stare as long as he could until it too rolled to a close and the sliver of light was shut out.

Next, he listened. Listened to the sounds of life. They were so close to him, yet he couldn't touch them. He was separate. There was a highway close by, and he listened until he could focus on each individual rush of sound as the cars passed. It was worst when he heard the police sirens. At first, they had sparked hope. Now he started to dread their passing wails.

At night the cold crept in. At first he had drifted away into an unconscious wakefulness, and then the shivering had set in. It jarred him against the rough floor. Kept him achingly awake.

There was music. Ryan could only hear a thumping beat and a muffled hint of a melody, but lying there shaking against the rugged, icy floor it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

The music must have lolled him into some sort of sleep, because Ryan felt himself twitching awake. Only it can't have been a proper sleep because the pain didn't come rushing back; it was already there.

"Wolfe. Glad to see you're awake at last."

Ryan felt sick. Sicker than all the pain in the world could've ever made him. Sick with fear.

"Oh. You're sulking. Fair enough."

The voice was light and smooth. Almost boyish. With it wafted a smell of cats which mingled with the irony stench. Ryan tried harder not to breathe.

"All you need to do, Wolfie, is listen."  
There was a rustle of clothes beside Ryan, and then a few footsteps. Each step had a slightly crunchy edge as the sand and dust on the paving was crushed against itself. Then a beep and a click, and the faint sound of air being released. A car boot being opened. The crunchy footsteps came back and something was placed beside Ryan. It scraped slightly against the floor as the man fiddled with it. It gave a faint whine, and then a clear woman's voice floated out.

"…Meanwhile, MDPD suspects that he has left the area and police are making extensive searches of the Keys. He is wanted for the murder of Robert Benoit, and CSI is still investigating other allegations. You are reminded that police should be informed of any sighting of former CSI Ryan Wolfe, whose picture is available on our website. Forensic psychologists are saying that Wolfe's marked sociopathic behaviour was triggered by-"

A sharp click, and the voice faded to nothing.

"You see, Wolfie? You're all over the news."

There was a gleeful chuckle, some more crunchy footsteps. But Ryan didn't hear them. He lay on the floor, lost in the gnawing despair inside his own head.

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"We have to make it sound like we're playing into his hands," said Eric. "By saying we're looking out of county we'll make him stay in Miami."

"Why?" said Natalia. "Ryan could be out there listening to that."

"He realises Wolfe is no longer useful; he'll kill him," said Eric.

"And he'll make sure we never find the body," said Horatio.

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He didn't hear the man come back, either. But he felt his shoulders and back and legs and arms screaming in protest as he was yanked by the hair into a sitting position. Something cold was forced against his lips. Icy liquid flooded into his mouth, and flooded out again after it grated and trickled against his stuck-together throat. It sloshed over the front of his shirt. The cloth clung clammily to his skin and he cringed away from it.

"Drink up, Wolfie," said the man. "Wouldn't want you to die on me."

Through closed eyelids, Ryan felt the light move as the man stood up.

"Thank you for that. A glass with your DNA… what an interesting calling card for infamous serial killer Ryan Wolfe. Only before you've always left prints, and unless I can persuade you to hold this for me… perhaps I'll take one of your fingers along with me."


	5. The Truth About Mr Wolfe

Ryan had squashed his arm down beside him so he didn't have to look at his hand. He had almost got used to it sticking out unnaturally, but every time he caught a glimpse of it the sick fear would come flooding back.

And with the fear he'd remember …it all.

And he couldn't do that.

He couldn't think. Because then he'd start to realise he cared too much. And caring just gave him that much more to lose.

He had to focus on what was real and what was now. That there was nothing left to lose and that he didn't care. He didn't. He didn't.

And that he could see. And all those things he was used to seeing every day… he realised he'd never looked at them properly before. He realised how bright the night sky was even when there was no moonlight and how brilliantly white the dawn was and-

But his treacherous thoughts would always come back to the same thing. Where was He? What was He doing?

And then he'd remind himself that he knew what He was doing. And it was his, Ryan's, an officer of the law's fault. And then the same nasty thought would always creep along. The one where he told himself that it was because it was his fault, because it was _always _his fault, that he was no longer an officer of the law.

And then the sick fear and the dread and the despair would _all _come flooding back.

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The call-out had been made by a week-in-the-job rookie who had been called in for a robbery and found …Frank wasn't quite sure what he should call it. Not a body. It had stopped being that a long time ago.

"What happened here, Frank?" said Alexx.

Frank just shook his head. A young woman had been …redistributed around her own living room. Frank had seen a lot of things but this… He looked away. The sight of the mutilation made every part of him twinge. He put his hands in his pockets and clenched his fists, as if clinging onto his wholeness.

The rookie was sitting outside propped against a palm tree.

"You did a good job, son," said Frank.

The kid looked at him. His skin was the colour of Frank's shirt: stark white. He made a noise. Swallowed. Started again. As he spoke, his voice shook. "Thank you, sir," he said. "But I didn't think so. I can't… I just can't get the picture out of my mind… that _smell…_"

"You called it in. You didn't puke." Frank gave an encouraging smile. "If I saw that on my first week of patrol, I'd have passed out." Adding in a stern voice, "Only if I were you I wouldn't spread that around."

A ghost of a smile flickered across the boy's face. Frank patted him on the back, and seeing a familiar head of orange hair, "You hang in there, son. Horatio!"

"Frank."

"It's …pretty bad."

Horatio nodded. "Who's our victim?"

"Miami University grad student. Alexx hasn't estimated a time of death yet. I'm not even sure if she can… But neighbours are sure that she was alive and partying until two in the morning. So… that gives us a span of six hours for time of death."

"And six hours," said Horatio. "For our killer to get away."

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"You need to check for anything that might have caught our killer's DNA or epithelials starting over…" Eric looked up. Natalia was staring glazedly over his shoulder. "Natalia?"

"Yes? What? Sorry?"

"You weren't listening."

"Look, I'm sorry, Eric. I really am."

Eric shrugged. "Alright. I just thought you could use the advice."

"No, I could. I really appreciate your help. It's just I…" a sigh. "I can't stop thinking about Ryan."

"Me neither," said Eric, quietly.

"Miss Boa Vista?" Natalia looked around and saw Horatio standing by the door. "A word?"

Nodding, Natalia put her camera down beside Eric, who started dusting a table surface for prints. He told himself he wasn't going to eavesdrop, but his ears listened anyway.

"Miss Boa Vista… The only people who know the truth about Mr Wolfe are yourself, Calleigh, Eric, Miss Valera, Detective Tripp and myself. I'd like to keep it that way because we have no idea how close to home this killer might be."

"I'm sorry. I know. It's just…"

"Listen, we trust no one but ourselves on this case, alright? Mr Stetler was…"

Peering from behind the table with his UV light, Eric saw Natalia nod. Although he wasn't sure how he was ever going to explain why he was looking for sperm under the dining table. He looked for some other way out of the room through which he could tactfully sidle. There was none.

"He's going to be alright, Miss Boa Vista," said Horatio.

"You can't promise that," said Natalia.

"I can promise," said Horatio. "That we will make sure he's alright."

_**Author's Note: Thanks so much for the reviews. I feel so bad doing this to Ryan… and he's getting angstier by the chapter. I enjoyed using Frank Tripp… he gets a bit neglected sometimes and I think he's brilliant in the series and Rex Linn does a great job of playing him. I ran into POV trouble for the last bit… but the whole idea of Eric crawling about under a table pretending he's looking for sperm while he's really eavesdropping on Horatio and Natalia's heart to heart amused me too much not to use it :P Five chapters and everything's STILL going downhill for poor Ryan. I'm such a sadist.**_


	6. Psycho

"There's nothing, Horatio. I've been over every piece of evidence. Every crime scene photo. The DNA on the beer bottles came back to Ryan…"

"Calleigh, I want you to let me worry about that right now, alright? We've had another call out."

"Alright, I'll go."

Calleigh looked at Horatio over her shoulder as she left. He was fiddling with his sunglasses under the sloping glass roof of the crime lab. He was staring after her, but his mind was elsewhere.

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Frank Tripp met Calleigh as her Hummer pulled up beside a three storey block of apartments.

"This looks familiar," he said.

"Does it?" she said.

"Call out earlier today. Same, er, MO."

Calleigh slid out of her seat. "Er, MO?"

"Have a look. I've never seen anything like it."

Nor had Calleigh. Frank led her up some stairs to an apartment door. Calleigh could smell the blood from there. None of the uniforms seemed to want to go inside and were milling about on the landing.

Frank showed her in.

"What happened here, Frank?"

"We're thinking she was killed about an hour ago. Neighbours heard screams. Called the police. Thought she was having another beef with her husband."

"She wasn't killed, Frank." Alexx was standing behind Calleigh in the little corridor. "She was destroyed."

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Horatio looked at his buzzing phone. 'M. Valera' was flashing insistently.

"Yes?" he said.

"Lieutenant Caine? I thought I should call you. The DNA Natalia and Eric sent over from a glass at their crime scene is Ryan's."

Horatio nodded. "I see."

"There's another thing." She sounded hesitant. "I swear I've been in this lab the whole time. No one's seen the results…"

"Miss Valera, what is it?"

"Somebody spoke to the papers."

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Natalia and Eric were silent as they drove back to the lab. The radio played another report urging anybody who had seen the ex-CSI psychopath to come forward until Eric switched it off. They barely spoke sorting through the boxes of evidence and stood in silence in Valera's lab as she ran all the DNA they had found.

"We need to find him, Eric."

Eric looked at Natalia. She was a rookie but she'd seen better than anybody what happened when you didn't get there on time and had seen better than anybody how many times out of time you didn't get there on time. "We will," said Eric.


End file.
